My Husband
by dreamscapenymph
Summary: A lot of people say he is cold-hearted, indifferent. And a lot may look at me and think, 'Poor girl, to be wed to a cold, unfeeling man.' So it would seem.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Thoughts in italics

_Flashback_

It was about five thirty pm on a Friday, and I was walking home from school, balancing the many books that I had just checked out from the university. It was no joke, being on my last year in that hellish school of mine. Teachers piled papers and projects like there was no tomorrow that my grandmother was starting to get irritated because I was cutting tennis practice for the nth time now. I was in a mighty hurry, because I was late again for another session she had especially arranged for me. I decided to take one of my many shortcuts—one that passed the tennis courts, under the train station near my former middle school.

That was when I saw him. I don't know why, but even if I hadn't seen him for nearly a decade now, at first glance I was sure that it was _him_.

He was playing against his old captain, in the court under the train station, and as my right fingers stilled on the wire fence surrounding the court, I swear my heart skipped a beat. There he was, barely a few feet away, playing again, before my very own eyes. I had never imagined that I would be seeing him again, but he was really there, donning the same cap, using the same racket. Though he was significantly taller. I had laughed quietly at the thought. But apparently the court was very silent, for the two figures playing heard and turned to look at me. I remember that I was startled as a pair of big, black eyes settled on mine, looking different yet still poignantly familiar. I blinked twice, and stuttered out, "Oh, I'm really sorry, carry on with your game, I'll leave at once." I balanced my books and left, but not before stopping and turning to face them another time, who were still staring at me. I found myself under the intense gaze of those big black eyes again, but I had found my old courage somewhere, and smiled gently at him, before nodding and setting off. I was glad that that action didn't betray my then pounding heart.

Walking to the station, I felt my face burn. _I hadn't even greeted Tezuka-san!_ I shook my head._ Was my reaction to _him_ really that different, that I forgot everything else?! _ I was terribly rankled by the fact that perhaps, just perhaps, I hadn't gotten over my first love. _Why, when I saw him again my heart wanted to jump out of my ribs and do a somersault in the air!_ I shook my head again and sighed. _This cannot be, for goodness' sake! I haven't seen him for nine years, and for all I know, he has forgotten me._

I was now a girl of twenty one years, still looking the same, from my eyes to my twin braids. I didn't have the heart to cut my long hair, and was too busy to think of changing hairstyles either. Nine years did not do much, except made me taller and given me the curves a woman of my age normally has.

And as for _him._ Well, he was overseas for a long, long time that my heart had to forget him. I had thought it was impossible—at twelve I thought that I wasn't capable of getting over him. But, well, I did. There was just that occasional smile every time I saw his pictures in the international sports magazines. Apart from that, there was nothing. Or so I thought, before I saw him again.

I sighed again, and began to admonish myself for the remainder of the trip home.

A week had passed, and because of the many requirements at university I was rarely at home. At nights I slept over at a chum's house to finish papers. It was at a Friday afternoon when a really tired me slumped in the floor of our house's foyer, that my still energetic grandmother had to drag me to my bed where I slept the whole afternoon and well into the early night.

At nine thirty in the evening I went down, in time to hear a car pull out of the driveway. Curious, I asked my grandmother, who had just emerged from the foyer, "Obaa-san, who was that?"

My grandmother raised her eyebrows at me and said, "The Echizens came over for a visit. They arrived from the States about a week ago."

"Oh." _So it was _him_ I saw. No doubt about that._

"I didn't try to wake you up, knowing that you were really tired. I was surprised you didn't, though; Nanjiroh was making such a racket. Ten years, and still nothing has changed." She chuckled.

In the midst of my sleep induced consciousness a question pervaded, but I kept my tongue at bay, unable to utter it to my grandmother, _Did he ask for me?_ I remained looking at my grandmother, who looked puzzled at the way I was staring. Reaching the conclusion that _he _hadn't, I smiled at her and said, "I'm going back to sleep, 'Baa-san."

"But dinner, Sakuno?" She asked, but I hadn't heard.

_So it is, _I thought. _He had forgotten me. _Just as well, it was all the better for my poor heart, which must forget him at all costs. _No more hope for a renewed one sided love, Sakuno. No more. It's too much for your poor heart to bear. It's best to forget him, just as he has forgotten you. _Still I went to bed with a heavy heart, though determined to forget him for all it's worth.

The next Monday I was on the train, going to the school to return my load of heavy university books. It passed the tennis court and I found myself reliving last week's memory. I nearly smiled, before shaking out of my reverie and scolding myself. At that point a racket nearly hit me in the face. Instantly the memory of when I first met _him_ came back to me. _Oh gosh, will I ever stop?!_ I expelled a huge breath of air when a racket swished inches from my face.

"Oh really what is it with people these days?" I muttered under my breath. But again, the surroundings were so quiet that the middle aged men who were boisterously discussing tennis heard me. Yep, they were the same people who were swishing around the aforementioned tennis racket. They rounded up on me, but before I could react I heard a familiar voice saying, "Your grip's all wrong."

"Really, what is it with me today? My mind must be playing tricks on me, making me remember _and _replay memories a decade ago. A decade ago, for goodness' sake. A decade ago. I'm starting to have a headache. Gosh, I really shouldn't have gone home Friday night, or used that shortcut a week ago and stopped at that tennis court to watch. Or maybe I shouldn't have ridden this train a decade ago. Then all of this shouldn't have started and messed up my mind and my emotions and then I wouldn't be having this rip roaring headache right now. _Gosh._" I began to mutter under my breath again. When I had to stop for air I heard a rather amused voice say, "Good morning, Ryuzaki-san."

I looked up, confused—_who knew me?_—and my eyes landed splat on _his_ face, on his _amused_ face—_why, it was he who used that amused voice earlier?_—and reeled from shock because _he_ was smirking at me. Him smirking at me?! I blinked. He chuckled and sat beside me. _He was chuckling? _I blinked again.

"Don't tell me you no longer remember me?" He asked.

Oh no, no, no, no. Who could forget him? But the thing was, he had called me Ryuzaki-san earlier.

He had called me Ryuzaki-san earlier.

Yup, he remembered me.

He remembered me.

Echizen Ryoma had remembered me.

_End of Flashback_

That had been the start of the renewal of our friendship. Or I guess it really was the start of a new friendship, since as far as I can remember our relationship a decade ago was just that of an idol and one who had admired him. A lot.

In the months that followed the said friendship ran deeper, and blossomed into something different, into something more, just because of, well, that gentle smile I gave him on the tennis court that fateful Friday that I saw him again. That was what he confessed to me later, sometime during the first month that we were officially together.

Two years later, he asked me to marry him.


	2. Chapter 2

A lot of people say he is coldhearted, indifferent. And a lot may look at me and think, _Poor girl, to be wed to a cold, unfeeling man_. So it would seem.

The truth is, reality is way better than that.

Oh, if it were just any ordinary day he would be his usual stoic self, off to the courts either playing or coaching. It was rare to find him anywhere else—his love of the game never died down even if he was, and I quote him here, "retired." Hmph. He had retired at the age of twenty one because he had already reached the top, and had remained there for a long time. It was during the time he and his family had returned to Japan, the time when I had met him again. I used to joke around that he had left tennis just to get a girl and get married. I'd get his usual silence as a reply, but there was one day, when we were alone, he marched up to me and announced, with his brows raised, "Yes I _retired_ to get _you_." That admission left me breathless and grinning at him. My husband, who was not apt to flaunt his emotions, was saying that to me. "How bold," I commented, and he just looked at me again before taking my hand and leading me inside the room.

But there were days when I fancy he was just tickled with life. During these days he would be different, and people would be shocked to see him look like a young man filled with drive and ready to take on any challenge the world could offer. His passive face would change: slowly a ghost of a grin could be found, until he would smile that endearingly infuriating half-smile, and a knowing twinkle could be found in those big eyes hidden by his white cap. Every now and then a "Che," could be heard from him, and his chin would be set in that 'let's get it on' way of his. And of course, the signature phrase, "Mada mada dane." Or he would get really gentle, like the aforementioned example. These are the faces of him that I wished people would see so that they would cease commenting. But then, I also wanted to keep that side of him to myself.

When we were younger and he was still starting off, he would have that look more often when he was on the courts playing against a difficult opponent. It was at these times that he 'evolved,' as I've often heard other people say. My mother-in-law used to tell me that as he got better and better, that look was seen less and less, especially in the year before his 'retirement.' But then it slowly resurfaced after a few months, because of many reasons: he had begun to teach and coach, his parents had followed him to Japan, and well, the occasional quarrels he had with his then girlfriend and now wife of three years.

I remember one of the times when my husband was tickled with life, and was unusually tender.

We had been married for three months. I had taken a bath and as I sat in front of my dresser drying my hair I thought, _Should I cut it?_ I glanced at Ryoma's sleeping form and remembered that he used to comment that my hair was very long, and that it got in the way of tennis. I fingered my thigh long tresses. _It has been quite a nuisance, I guess. I guess…_I had gotten used to my long hair; it has been long ever since elementary and I would feel a loss if it was chopped away. But then if I would cut it my head won't be as heavy as it is right now…

Numerous thoughts rang in my mind, as I continued to run my fingers through the strands of hair. I was utterly lost in thought that I didn't see my husband stirring and sitting up. I didn't notice him softly padding on the floor until he reached me and took a hairbrush from the dresser. He took my hand from my hair gently and began to brush my hair. I had looked up at him, startled.

"Ryoma-kun?"

"…" He was still brushing my hair.

"Lose the –kun," was all that he said.

I smiled fondly at him, then closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. "Should I cut my hair to shoulder length?"

The hand brushing my hair abruptly stopped. I looked at him. He looked stunned. "Why would you?" He asked, his whole body still.

I was confused as to his reaction. "Well, it has been a nuisance, I guess? And you yourself said that it always got in the way of things."

He still hadn't resumed his brushing. "But that was just in tennis, right? And you're not exactly playing the sport as often anymore."

I looked away. "True." Work had gotten in the way, and I could only play with him during weekends. Still, though, I remained indecisive.

My face must have also shown my thoughts, because he tapped my head gently. I looked at him, and he said, his eyes holding mine intently. "Don't cut your hair okay? It's lovely the way it is."

I blinked, and he resumed his brushing.

I smiled and reached up to hold his hands, effectively stopping him again from brushing my hair. "Thanks," I said quietly. He smiled at me and said, "Should it be time that you go to bed?"

"I need to dry my hair first."

"In that case, let me help."

I was quite surprised, since he had never done that for me before. I nodded.

Ever since then, every time I took a bath in the night, he would be up, sitting on the foot of the bed and tossing a tennis ball up and down while waiting for me. And when I come in the room he would hustle me to the dresser and brush my hair. Every time.

"It's nice to have a personal hair dresser." I commented to him once.

He just raised his eyebrows at me and smiled one of the smiles that always make me tingle all over.


	3. Chapter 3

It was one of the rare Sundays when my husband wasn't playing in the tennis courts, but in the dirt court he and his father had set up at the back of our house. After finishing some overtime work and chores, I slid the back door open to watch him play against my father-in-law. It never ceases to amaze me when I watch them play. Gone were the days when Nanjiroh Echizen played flippantly against his son. Now the said son's skills are in the national level and the father is aging, so when it comes to tennis both are at par right now. When they play seriously like this, I always watch when I can.

But as I looked out in the back, no one was there. I steeped out into the court and found my father-in-law sitting cross legged on the grass a few yards away from the court, his racket beside him. When he saw me his face broke out into a grin. "Sakuno-chan! Wanted to watch the game?"

"Yes, 'tou-san, but what's going on? Where's Ryoma?"

His grin got even wider, "Hehehe, just over there, looking for some precious ball." Then he raised his voice, "Oi, boy!"—for even after years he still called Ryoma 'boy'—"Sakuno-chan's coming over there to help you look for the precious tennis ball!"

"Shut up, Oyaji!" Came Ryoma's reply, which confused me.

My father-in-law snickered. He pointed and I found my husband in the far left side of the yard, crouching low among the tall grasses that needed cutting, his back to us.

"What are you doing?" I asked him when I reached him, putting my hands on my knees and bending.

He seemed shocked to see me, and I heard my father-in-law laugh while shouting out, "See, boy! I wasn't joking or lying to psyche you out! She's really here and she's going to help you look for that tennis ball!" It may be disturbing to see the bulk of my father-in-law collapse into giddy giggles, but I got so used to him that it didn't affect me anymore.

"Tennis ball?" I turned to Ryoma, "But there are still many of them in that basket over there. You can just use one in the meantime and collect all of the other ones later, when you finish the game." I told him, and was surprised to see that he was red.

"N-No, it's—" He started to answer, not looking at me.

"It's a different kind of tennis ball, Sakuno-chan! It's precious, it's precious!" Father-in-law burst out amid his guffaws.

"I told you to shut up, Oyaji! It's your entire fault!" Ryoma shouted back at him, and began to mutter under his breath, "If he hadn't taken it out of my box this wouldn't have happened. He should really stop bothering my things…"

I was confused at the exchange, and looked back at my father-in-law. He was still clutching his sides, but he motioned for me to help my husband. "I'll help you," I told him.

Ryoma turned red again. "No need," he shuffled over to the other side, still scanning the weeds and the grass.

_Why was he turning red?_ I thought. I followed him, "It's okay, I'll help you, so that you can return to your game."

He sighed. "I told you there's no need."

Now, I do not know where that stubbornness came from but it manifested itself at that time. I continued to follow my scarlet tinged husband and said, "I told you I'll help you."

He looked at me for a second then turned away. "Fine."

I grinned. "What is it that you're looking for?"

He muttered something.

"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that."

Surprisingly, my father-in-law was quiet in the back.

Ryoma's face was still turned away.

"Ryoma?"

He turned to me and looked at me intently, before saying in a loud voice, "It's a precious tennis ball with a caricature of me on a baseball cap penned in it." He turned and glared at the back, which had my father-in-law exploding into laughter again. Then he turned back to the ground, and I found the tips of his ears pink.

As for me, I stilled in my position, still bending with my hands on my knees. I felt my cheeks go hot, spreading to my face, neck and ears, and knew that I was red. _He had kept the tennis ball that I made, the one that he had asked for? I thought that he had kept that as a joke, or maybe he found it funny, the drawing too inaccurate, or something. But never in a million years did I think that he was going to keep it. Besides, we had started dating years after he asked for that ball._ In a flash I remembered the ball that I gave him when he left for the US Open in America. _Perhaps, just perhaps…he kept that, too?_ I blinked, and crouched down beside my husband. He noticed it and looked at me, found my red face, and looked away abruptly. His face was a mirror of my own. I couldn't help but chuckle a little. _My shy, shy husband._

Still not fully recovering from the blush, I placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "I'll help you."

What I got as a reply was a mere nod. He was still looking away. I smiled and went to another area to look for the ball. But that was after I turned to him and kissed his cheek. "Thanks," I whispered.

If it was possible, he turned even redder, and my father-in-law, who had seen the kiss, began to hoot and make catcalls. "Five months of marriage and you still act as if you're a new couple and just got together yesterday!"

Despite my blushing cheeks, I smiled. _My thoughts exactly._

I heard Ryoma shout out another "Shut up!" to his father.

But it was only me who heard what he barely whispered a moment later, "Thanks, too, Sakuno."

He was the one who found the ball, repeating history many times over. Father-in-law was hooting with laughter, pointing at his son's red face, which quickly changed from embarrassment to anger. They continued the game, while I, on a hunch, slipped inside the house for a while and hunted around our room. And there it was, inside a box kept under our bed, kept in a glass case that I estimated could only hold two balls, was a tennis ball with the Japanese characters saying "Number 1" written on it. I didn't know if I smiled or I turned red or I went giddy with an unexplainable emotion. I guess I was just happy.

Oh, and the result of the game? Father-in-law was leading in the first thirty minutes, before he had purposefully used the famed tennis ball and slammed it into the grasses in the far left side of the yard. But after that, my husband creamed him, winning 6-3.


	4. Chapter 4

Thoughts in italics

Ours is a family of unexpected romances. Ours is a family of unexpected marriages. Take my in-laws, Nanjiroh-san and Rinko-san. Mother-in-law used to tell me that her husband had been the most perverted person on earth when they first met.

"Oh, never mind the 'had'," she continued abruptly, waving her right hand in the air. "He will always be a pervert no matter what." We shared a good laugh at that comment. Father-in-law certainly hasn't outgrown his adult magazines. Right now, I can picture him lying on his side at the bell tower with the bell rope tied to his feet, his right elbow supporting his head and his left holding the magazine, occasionally snickering at the colorful pictures.

She had hated him with a passion back then, Rinko-san told me. As description of him, she relayed to me a number of words and adjectives so colorful that I clutched my stomach from laughing so much.

"But how did you end up marrying him?" I asked her in a tone so full of disbelief that she smiled at me.

"Well, even if he was a pervert, he turned out to be a good man," she mused with a fond smile on her face, and proceeded to tell me their love story. About how she first met him, about how he groped her A LOT and complaining about her breast size and unfashionable tennis clothes, but then ended up saving her and punishing the American pro tennis player, George Smith, for hurting her. That was when she started seeing him in a different light, she told me. "I found out that he is capable of being serious about some things, too. He wasn't all pretty girls and arrogance, after all." She smiled, a far away look in her eyes.

"And he was serious about you, too."

She pursed her lips, "I guess, after all, he did end up marrying me. And I consented, so I did see that he was serious, or else I was just crazy for being with him. And to think that right now we're still together." She chuckled and I smiled at her. _Rinko-san seems to be lost in a trip down memory lane today_, I thought.

_Now that I think of it, Rinko-san seemed to be the only one who can keep Nanjiroh-san at bay. Nanako-neesan always used to threaten him that if he didn't do this or Rinko-san would throw away his magazines. Then he would scramble up in fright and obey. _I chuckled lightly. _But so far nothing had happened to his magazine collection, as far as I know._

Then Rinko-san showed me pictures of my husband when he was a toddler.

"Kawaii!" I exclaimed, my eyes taking in the sight of a child in a shirt and overalls with only one side buttoned, cradling a racket that was obviously big for him. I chuckled and said, "I see that that white cap and stoic face has been there ever since."

Rinko-san could only nod and laugh. Then her face softened, "It's good to know that you accept Ryoma for who he is." She looked away for a moment that turned to me, "Honestly, I never thought that that child would be entertaining romantic thoughts. When he told me that he liked someone, I tell you, Sakuno, my chopsticks paused in the air, halfway to my mouth."

* * *

3rd person POV flashback

It was dinnertime, and Rinko was happy that for once, the dining table was peaceful. Nanjiroh had a sore throat and couldn't make any comments, and Ryoma was lost in his thoughts. She could hear his foot tapping on the floor, as if waiting for something or someone to come. He still hadn't eaten anything yet, but Rinko was far at peace that she didn't hear. _It's rare to have a quiet dinner time with the father and son tandem not going at each other's throats,_ she thought.

Then the bell rang. _Who might that be? _Rinko thought lazily, and prepared to stand up. But Ryoma had beat her to it, "I'll do it, 'Kaa-san. I've been waiting for this person." Rinko nodded and picked up a lump of rice using her chopsticks. "But who might that be, Ryoma?" She called out to him, lifting up her chopsticks.

"Girlfriend," was her son's reply, and Rinko's face registered total shock, her mouth open, chopsticks paused in mid-air.

Nanjiroh too, she noticed vaguely, was opening and closing his mouth like a fish, unable to move, not believing that his son finally, _finally_ had a girlfriend. All thoughts of teasing Ryoma had fled from his mind, for he originally thought that his son would never look at girls. Well, to say it simply, the world seemed to be crashing down, so the older couple thought.

Needless to say, when a bright red Sakuno entered the dining room after Ryoma, that was the sight she beheld: Rinko frozen and Nanjiroh imitating a fish.

end flashback

* * *

I ginned at her, "Are you a bit relieved?"

"Not only a bit. A lot." She admitted to me.

We laughed.

"That child," she shook her head, "is a lot like his father, even if he wouldn't admit it. This is one of their similarities: it is not in their personalities to be married men, yet they ended up getting married. And happily, I might add." She continued, looking at me.

"And that came from the wives." I put in, tilting my head at her, a small smile in my face.

She nodded vigorously.

"You have so much trust in me. Thank you, Rinko-san." I clasped her hand.

"Sakuno, I think you should get comfortable calling me okaa-san right now. And Nanjiroh otou-san."

I blinked and nodded, happy.

We smiled at each other and a comfortable silence settled between us.

"I guess we are a family of unexpected marriages." I voiced out my thoughts, referring to the male Echizens we knew of.

She smiled, and I know she remembered how shocked she was to discern that the girl that her son liked was his former schoolmate in middle school, the shyest girl who had quietly admired him from the sidelines, and the one who considered him her first love that had wanted to forget him when he went away, but ended up falling in love again. _Me too, I did not expect that the boy I liked during middle school and the one whom I hadn't seen for nearly a decade would become my boyfriend, and more than that, my husband._ She knew that I did not believe that Ryoma had remembered me, and perhaps had feelings for me. After all, she had many a hand in the courtship that followed the second meeting in the train.

"True, true," was all that she said, as we turned our heads to watch another heated match between our husbands.


	5. Chapter 5

I do not want to admit this.

It's far too embarrassing.

It's far too out of my character.

But sometimes it just irritates me that I want to burst.

So here goes.

Sometimes, just sometimes…

I am jealous of the cat.

Really. I mean, do you see the way my husband holds him? The way he treats him? He even brought it with us when we moved. I sometimes think that Karupin was the one that he married. Or maybe he had married him a long time ago when he was still a middle schooler. His cousin told me many RyomaKarupin tales that were supposed to make me laugh but ended with me being green with envy that I 'forgot' to feed the cat, making my husband glare at me.

Arrgggh.

This is why I do not want to admit this.

This is why it's too embarrassing.

But really!

Arggh! What is wrong with me? Why am I jealous of a cat?!

Seriously this is a big problem. Well, my big problem. Because I do not want to tell my husband that I am jealous of that cat. I don't want to tell my husband that I want to get rid of that cat and drown him somewhere. But sometimes when I see him cradle it as if it's a child I really want to yell and stamp around in jealousy. And besides that cat's too old! It's been how many years already, and it's still alive! Is that fact still logical? It must have used up all of its lives and is well way into his ninth now. Isn't it supposed to die?

Calm down Sakuno, calm down.

But no matter what I do, I cannot. I seem to dredge up many horrible memories when the cat's needs were placed above my own.

There was one time when I came home late and hungry because of overtime. I asked my husband if he left some dinner for me. He was reading a book in the living room, and when I asked him he just blinked at me, and answered that there was none, since he thought that I had eaten dinner outside. Then he went back to his book. I frowned. I was leaving the room when he added in his offhanded tone that he had given my share to Karupin.

Then there was also the time when he suddenly left for a two week seminar of some sort. It was a hasty packing that we had done, and a hasty goodbye that he said to me. Before he had left I found him crouched down on the entry foyer, baby talking Karupin. He was looking at the cat intently, with what seemed like a forlorn expression. The next day, the cat was nowhere to be found. I won't deny that I was quite happy at that time, thinking it had gone AWOL on us. Imagine my shock two weeks later when the cat reappeared, along with my husband. I raised my eyebrows at him, and he just smiled a bit sheepishly at me. "Well, somehow he ended up in my luggage." And somehow, 'somehow,' Karupin 'ended up' in his luggage whenever he left for a long trip.

I feel…ignored.

Hmph.

So it was, one day I sat on the porch. The cat came, mewing at me and settling down on my feet. I frowned at it.

And I couldn't quite help what had happened next.

"Karupin, you know what, you are one sly cat." It just mewed again when it heard its name, and closed its eyes.

"Are you listening? Listen, cat." I scratched its neck. It purred, but its eyes opened.

"Karupin, in this house I am the mistress, the lady. You are not going to go around stealing my husband's attention, okay? Do you understand that?" I spoke to it as if talking to a two year old. "I want you to stop hogging him all to yourself."

I looked at it.

"I am not jealous of you; I just wanted to remind you."

Silence.

"Fine. I am. A bit. I think." My cheeks flamed. "Just, just don't monopolize him, okay? Because sometimes I feel unloved and ignored. Sometimes I feel as if you're the wife and not me, taking into account the ratio of affection we receive from him." I cupped my chin in my hand, and then looked at it sharply. "Well, yeah, just don't tell that to anybody."

"Karupin." I said, nudging it with my feet. It was staring at me, eyes as big as tennis balls. It mewed.

"Good. We're in agreement." It began to doze again, still on my feet. I rubbed its fur and it purred. Perhaps it had understood.

"You know, if you just hadn't done all those things, you're a cute cat." I paused.

"But then it exactly wasn't all your fault, you know. Oh well, don't mind me. I was just being crazy." I sighed and continued to rub its fur with my feet.

"Truce, Karupin."

And that was one reason why the cat and I became fast friends. The other was that my husband treated me especially nice that week, and I never knew the reason why.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis.

* * *

I chuckled silently.

She was talking to the cat.

And the way I see it, she was talking to it _intently_, complete with the gestures and facial expressions, as if she was talking to a normal human being.

I chuckled again, and then checked to see if my hiding place was safe. After all, it would do her no good if she found out that I saw her talking to Karupin. Her face will just erupt into one of those endearing blushes that were very characteristic and becoming of her. But then again, perhaps I'd let myself seen, just so I'd witness another round of those famous blushes from her—the blushes that were only for me now. _Another time, another time,_ I told myself. For now I was content to see her animated face.

Her eyebrows were pulled together and she was frowning at the cat. Curious about what she was chiding it for I edged closer, and began to hear snatches of the one-sided conversation.

"Karupin, you know what, you are one sly cat." She said at the said cat that was curled up at her feet, mewing occasionally, its eyes closed. _Sly about what? _I thought, confused at where this conversation was heading.

"Are you listening? Listen, cat." She scratched its neck and it purred. _I wonder what's going on with Sakuno…she addressed the pet as 'cat,' not by its name. Is there some hidden animosity? But in the first place why is she talking to it?_ I blinked, thinking that my wife had gone crazy, but kept on listening to her.

My eyes widened at the next thing that came from her mouth.

"Karupin, in this house I am the mistress, the lady. You are not going to mew around stealing my husband's attention, okay? Do you understand that? I want you to stop hogging him all to yourself."

_Huh?_

"I am not jealous of you; I just wanted to remind you."

Dumbstruck, I listened on.

"Fine. I am. A bit. I think. Just, just don't monopolize him, okay? Because sometimes I feel unloved and ignored. Sometimes I feel as if you're the wife and not me, taking into account the ratio of affection we receive from him. Well, yeah, just don't tell that to anybody."

_What in the earth was my wife saying? _Then a barrage of memories came down on me: the night when Sakuno came home late, and me telling her that I gave her dinner share to Karupin, and the times when I went on trips and tennis conventions alone, and always brought it with me without telling her. I blinked. _Well, I never knew she was capable of jealousy. Sakuno seemed very…placid that I never thought she'd feel that way of anyone, of anything, ever. _I blinked twice, for the nth time that day, and realized that there were still a lot that I did not know about her. I was lost in my thoughts that I did not hear what she said after that, just her saying, "But then it exactly wasn't all your fault, you know. Oh well, don't mind me. I was just being crazy."

_True. She is being crazy…being jealous of a cat…_

"Truce, Karupin." I heard her say.

_I think my wife has gone bonkers. But for Sakuno to be that jealous…and of Karupin no less, it has to be founded on something. And I guess all of the things I remembered were just some of the reasons why she acted that way…_

I watched her rubbing the cat with her feet, and came to a realization. I stared at my wife, and thought, _starting today…

* * *

  
_

~Sakuno's POV~

It was the first time he cooked dinner. I had to admit that I was surprised. He had never cooked anything before. And I never questioned why, in fact I never noticed it until now. It was on the day when I had that crazy talk with Karupin the cat. An hour before dinner, when I was about to start making it, I found him in the kitchen, staring at the pots and pans, ingredients, and everything else. I stopped short at the sight of him in a black apron that I haven't seen before, perhaps it was his father's…and I nearly laughed. But I managed to clamp my hand on my wayward mouth and silently watched him puttering around in the kitchen. Or try to putter around, I guess.

He was muttering to himself, the way a nervous person would mutter to himself. And that, to me, was another revelation. My husband was never nervous. He wasn't a man whose feathers were ruffled. But right now…I was further convinced he had never cooked anything before. So I stepped in.

"What are you making? Here, let me." I let the sentence hang, not stating whether I wanted to help, or to take over. I was watching his reaction at the corner of my eye, as I took out my own apron. I ignored the subtle exhale of relief and looked at him expectantly.

"An American dinner," was all that he said.

I blinked.

"But don't you like Japanese dinners more?" That was what he always demanded: Japanese meals. And that was what I always cooked.

He shrugged. "It was supposed to be for you." Then he added in a grunt, "Lasagna."

I blinked again. "Okay…" I went, and never really got the significance of me cooking for myself.

"The ingredients?"

"I bought them from the store earlier. Here they are." He handed a grocery bag to me and I noticed that he hadn't bothered doing anything else except let it sit in the counter. I stifled a chuckle. But I guess he heard, since he looked at me, annoyed.

I composed myself and set out everything. But then he noticed that he was still hanging around, that he didn't escape, like I expected him to. I turned to him and asked, "Yes?"

There was silence, before he replied, "I'll help you."

_Oh._ He was still wearing the apron. I nodded, then turned my back on him and smiled. He stood beside me on the counter, and we began an arduous thirty minutes of me cooking and him messing everything up. In the end, I just made him run around getting the other necessary ingredients while I tried to salvage the food.

Later, when we sat down to dinner, I had to admit that though it was tough, it was a good experience: cooking with my husband.

* * *

~Ryoma's POV~

_Disaster._

That was the lone word for the cooking attempt that I had made earlier. I had wanted to cook for her, but in the end, she was the one who cooked for the two of us. Again. Well, I just had to try again. And then I had another great idea. I knew for a fact that she bought her lunch at her office, so this was a chance to make her something nice…Now, if I can just handle it, everything would be fine. Tomorrow…

The next morning I woke up extra early. This was so I could finish my morning exercises early, and carry out my plan while she was still asleep. This way there was no chance that she would take over.

And so, I donned that hideous black apron again and set to work. That is, after a great deal of staring at the blasted contraptions before me.

It took me about an hour to make something that simple. It was a good thing she was a heavy sleeper, else she would have woken up a long while ago, what with the clanging chopsticks and pans…Anyway, this was the best that I could do, and it did not look that bad.

_Oh well, here goes._

And I slipped the thing inside her bag. She was going to get a surprise at lunch today.

Oh, and later this afternoon, as well.

* * *

~Sakuno's POV~

I nearly laughed when I saw the contents of my bag today. Aside from the usual contents, there was a suspicious looking lunch box inside. I eyed it for a moment, and suddenly everything clicked. Why my husband woke up earlier than usual, the sound of clanging so early in the morning, the way he casually handed my bag to me earlier this morning…

And so at lunch time I took out the harmless looking little _bento_ and put it in my desk. I remembered his disastrous attempts to cook last night, and was almost afraid to open it. But it was my husband…and so…I opened the thing.

And ate.

_I have to admit, it isn't as bad as it looks. _

"Sakuno-san, you're not eating lunch at the cafeteria today?" My office mate asked.

"Nope, not today, Eri-san."

"Eh? Is that a _bento_?"

I smiled at her, and nodded.

"From your mother?"

"Nope, my husband."

And I couldn't help but be cheered by my office mate's _REALLY?!_ Look. After all, even though we were on a first name basis, she never knew that I was married. I didn't have any pictures with Ryoma on my desk, seeing as the ones who would see it would go berserk asking if I knew _the_ Echizen Ryoma. After all, he was quite the legendary tennis player. It was more peaceful if people did not know that I was connected to him. And besides, nobody asked, and I wasn't going to voluntarily give out information.

Hmmm. My husband was giving me a lot of surprises this week. And I'm deriving a lot of fun from it.

And as it turned out, there was more.

After work, I always took the train back home. Sometimes, I would take a few detours and buy a cake, or something to decorate the house with. In the days when I didn't do overtime, I was always the first one home, on account of the fact that my husband always stayed behind in the tennis club, helping out the ones who needed more help. Often, he arrived just before dinner.

But that afternoon was different. I was one of the last workers who went out of their office, and was confused at the flock of people just outside the building, apparently fawning over someone.

_Who is it?_ I craned my neck. And saw a man, leaning casually on a pole across the street. His tennis bag was sitting on the floor next to his feet, and he had on his usual tennis clothes, complete with that old hat. No one had approached him, I guess because he was sporting such an aloof atmosphere. But not me. I blinked once, and in a daze, I crossed the street and walked up to him.

"Ryoma?"

* * *

~Ryoma's POV~

There she was.

"I waited for a long time, you know." I told her. She was still standing there, her eyes blinking every now and then. That seemed to be our signature sign of surprise. I chuckled inwardly, and congratulated myself on surprising her. It was a job well done. I picked up my tennis bag and her bag from her still hands, and walked towards the station.

"Come on, Sakuno."

She just blinked again.

I sighed and turned back, then took hold of her hand and half-pulled her towards the direction of the station.

Back at home, she still couldn't utter another word.

"What's up with you?" I said, annoyed. "Starting today I'm going to be picking you up. And I want the people whom I pick up to be able to talk to me. Okay?"

Satisfied at her slow nod, I went up to the kitchen to start dinner. _It was a cool move_, I thought to myself. _Cool husband, cool husband_. I grinned to myself.

But it was all foiled when the clanging started and she stomped to the kitchen and took over cooking dinner again. I sighed inwardly, when it came to the kitchen, the cool husband factor went down. Really down.

* * *

~Sakuno's POV~

The next day, he was there again, leaning on the same pole, his hands on his pockets. _What is going on with him?_ I have to admit that I still couldn't believe that he had picked me up yesterday, and was going to pick me up every afternoon. Everything that had happened yesterday afternoon seemed like…a hazy dream to me. But there he was again, apparently waiting for me.

I resisted the urge to voice my wondering thoughts aloud and slowly began to pack my things. He had made me another _bento_ again. I would have to ask why he was acting so unlike him this week…

I was lost in my thoughts, and it took Eri-san three tries to get my attention.

"Sakuno-san!"

"Oh? Oh! What is it, Eri-san?" My officemate's eyes were alit with curiosity, and her gaze was glued at the window, where the man leaning on the pole across the street could be seen.

_I think I know what she's going to say next…_

"Is that Echizen Ryoma I see? The famous tennis player?

"Yes," I said to her slowly.

"Oh! My brother is a big fan of his! So much that he watched the games over and over again at her house, and it was on a lot that I got hooked too! He is a pretty impressive player."

"True." I agreed. _It seems that she hasn't caught on yet…_

"But then he is so aloof and private that it is hard to see him around…" She mused.

"True." I agreed again, amused. My husband was good in being cold and silent. Aloof: Eri-san had zeroed in on the most Ryoma quality. My officemate was a sharp one.

"And he's handsome too, if you like the mysterious, cold type…"

I raised an eyebrow at that, but agreed heartily inwardly.

"I wonder if I can get his autograph…I wonder what he is doing here right now, as if he is waiting for someone…"

I could feel something coming…something…something…

And I was right when I thought that she was sharp. Her gaze flitted to me then to him outside, then back to me with an intense glint in her eye.

I looked at her with a questioning gaze, anticipating…anticipating…

"Echizen Sakuno. Could Echizen Ryoma be your…be your…"

Then she sighed. "I guess it's wishful thinking if I say he's your brother, right? After all you do not look alike. He's your husband, right?" She looked at me. Then before I can reply she said, with a hopeful look, "Or he's your brother-in-law."

I bit my lip and said, "Sorry, Eri-san, he's my husband."

She exhaled and said, "Oh well, of course he's your husband. Why else would he pick you up?"

"Sorry, Eri-san."

"Hey! Why are you saying sorry to me?" She laughed, "Shouldn't you already be used to the reactions of his fangirls? Don't think about me; go to him, Echizen Sakuno!"

I went out of the office, grateful that what happened wasn't much of a scene. As I did so, I heard Eri-san mutter, "But I didn't know that Echizen Ryoma has a wife…wow, he is good at keeping his life private…"

Outside, I approached him, trying to ignore the looks that were thrown my way, especially from females…the fangirls. _Didn't Japan know that Echizen Ryoma was married?! _

This was my thought as I trudged my way to my husband. He looked up at the sound of my footsteps approaching him, and he smiled at me. But he must have seen the dark look on my face—the grin faded away.

"Why the look?" He asked me, taking my bags again, and leading the way to the train station.

"Doesn't Japan know that _the_ Echizen Ryoma has a wife? All of those fangirls are eyeing you like a piece of candy." I blurted out at him.

"Why would I tell them? They don't matter to me," he said, giving me a weird look.

I had nothing to say to that, so I shrugged.

There was silence—we were both pensive.

Suddenly he turned to me and said, "Could you perhaps be jealous?"

I stopped in my tracks, shooting him a _What?! _look.

He motioned to the females whose eyes were boring holes on our backs. "Of them."

I raised an eyebrow at his observation and rolled my eyes. Then I shook my head and walked ahead, trying to hide my flaming cheeks. _Of course he was spot on. I was speechless, since when was he this sharp when it came to relationships?_

I could hear him chuckle once. As he caught up with me he put his free arm around my shoulder and planted a kiss on the top of my head. Then he intertwined his fingers around mine and raised it.

"I think that was enough announcement to the females of Japan. Or do you think they need more evidence?" He grinned at me crookedly.

I could only walk on because my hand was attached to him. Otherwise I would have collapsed at that unexpected attack of sweetness. "Was that you?" I choked out.

He laughed. "You're right. That wasn't me. The me of a few years ago that is, before landing with you."

My face flamed, but despite that I retorted back the classic, "Who are you and what have you done to my husband?"

"He's here." He squeezed my fingers then turned to me mischievously. "You didn't answer my question. Do you think Japan needs more evidence? We could do more than just hold hands you know. I could do more than just kiss your head…"

If it was possible to turn redder I did. "I think that was enough evidence." _How can I be embarrassed when we are now married? _I shook my head and snuck a look at him. There were still traces of a grin there. I smiled, it wasn't often when he showed this side of his, and often, it was only to me. This was a first—showing his playfulness to people he did not know. And I could guess the exact reason. My smile widened.

I squeezed his hand—he still hadn't let go. He turned to me and I grinned at him. "Let's go home!"

* * *

~Ryoma's POV~

One of the things that I love about this bedroom was that it had its own bathroom. During the mornings I no longer needed to walk a longer distance just to wash my face and brush my teeth. But then there was also another added bonus: if I was lying down on the bed I could perfectly see my wife emerge from the bath, toweling her long hair dry. Then it would be my chance to brush her hair. It was one of our routines, and it comforted me to have my hands running through her hair, cold yet dry at the same time. And I know she liked it too, her head often lolled back into my hand, her eyes closed. Sometimes she ended up sleeping, and I had to carry her to the bed.

One particular evening, after I had frowned about her being very light, I laid her down and stretched out next to her, propping an elbow, just to look at her. She had changed me, in many ways. Enough said.

I kissed her in the nose, whispering in the air, "Thank you, Echizen Sakuno, my wife."

* * *

AN: Bah. I'm drowning in cheesiness. I'm sorry I wouldn't be able to do the part when Sakuno gets pregnant…maybe as a separate one shot or sequel or side story? Sorry about that…but I think it's time to wrap this fic now… and I hope I can also wrap up my other fics. OH WELL. When I have time I'll be editing this again. Thank you for reading!!!


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